Casey's Cleaning Celebration
by Tarafina
Summary: He, personally, had long ago accepted cleaning as her way of sorting out what was going on in her head, her way of coming to terms with those big moments. :Dasey:


**Title**: Casey's Cleaning Celebration  
**Category**: Life With Derek  
**Rating**: K+  
**Genre**: Humor/Romance  
**Pairing**: Casey/Derek  
**Prompt**: #09 - Clean  
**Word Count**: 1,202  
**Summary**: He, personally, had long ago accepted cleaning as her way of sorting out what was going on in her head, her way of coming to terms with those big moments.

**_Casey's Cleaning Celebration  
_**-1/1-

She was in deep thought. He knew because she was cleaning even more than usual. She'd dusted everything (twice), she'd cleaned the floors (on her knees with a plastic sponge to get every little spot off before she used the regular mop), she put every book in the _entire_ house in alphabetical order and color coordinated the cans in the cupboard, the fruits, vegetables and containers in the fridge, and now that she was starting in on his sports room where he kept all of his memorabilia, his flat-screen for watching the games, his messy 'guy surroundings' for game night, he was getting worried. Because despite how Casey was a clean freak, they had long ago agreed, sometime between marriage and buying their house, that he would have one room all to himself to mess up however he liked, to watch hockey or football or whatever 'manly' game he wanted and she would never, ever touch it. She wouldn't clean it, wouldn't right the crooked pictures, she wouldn't even dust the flat-screen. And now she was standing in the doorway, dust brush and cleaning supplies in hand and while it definitely needed to be cleaned, it meant something big was happening.

He intercepted her, pulled the cleaning stuff from her hands, tossed it away carelessly and then redirected her away from his precious room and downstairs to the living room. He sat her down in his leather armchair because for some reason it always made her relax and then he knelt in front of her, brow lifted and shoulders tensed. She'd been a little cranky lately, her emotions all over the place (not that it was really all that unusual for Casey, but this was an all new manic for her), and she'd been feeling sick on top of everything else. "You wanna tell me what's going on or are we going to play 'Guess what's on Casey's mind' today?"

She sighed, staring down at her hands clasped white-knuckle tight in her lap. "Nothing," she said in that soft, quiet voice that meant 'Something Big.'

She was playing with her wedding band, the one he put on her finger three years ago at their wedding where far too many hockey players sang loud and off key and gave her bear hugs in congratulations.

Their relationship endured a lot of cleaning; after they first kiss, long before any talk of dating, she cleaned the entire MacDonald/Venturi home, top to bottom, twice, in one day. Before their first date, she nervously rearranged everybody's closets according to color and how often they wore it. After their first date, she cleaned both bathrooms in the house, even taking a spare toothbrush to clean ever crevice of mildew or whatever. For a week after their first fifteen or so boyfriend/girlfriend kisses, she was in constant clean mode; the bathrooms, closets, floors, stairs, whatever caught her eyes. The first time they made love, he woke up to his room so clean he thought he'd been in somebody else's house. Four years later, when he proposed, she rearranged all of the furniture in their apartment and he found her vacuuming the hallways on _every _floor.

He, personally, had long ago accepted it as her way of sorting out what was going on in her head, her way of coming to terms with those big moments. She hadn't gone through cleaning mode for any of her other boyfriends, just him, and that made him feel unusually special. Not that he'd actually tell her that. Despite now being together for seven years, he still enjoyed bugging her about her cleaning habits - mostly because she got all flustered and prim and he liked making her so much less innocent while dragging her into their bed to mess up the clean sheets.

"Case?" He held her knees in his palms and as she looked at him, he slid his hands up and down her thighs to comfort her. He seriously hoped she wouldn't cry, but she had that wobbly lip and big, damp eyes thing going on, which usually spelled 'sudden hockey practice he forgot' just to get away from her emotional outbursts.

"I just... I mean... I thought we... And then that time... And that other time..." She sniffled. "And okay, those other four times, but..." She heaved in a shaky breath that was on the verge of a sob.

He stared at her in confusion. "Still in the dark here, Case."

She nodded, sniffling. "I t-took a t-test... Well," She threw up her hands, "You know me, I actually took s-six tests and... and they were all..." She stared down at him, half-smile, half-frown. "Positive."

Tests? Positive?

"You're..." His brows lifted high, mouth forming and 'O'. "And we're..." She nodded. "So I'll be a..." She smiled shakily. He cleared his throat. "That definitely explains the cleaning..." he murmured thoughtfully.

"That's all you have to say?" She looked annoyed now, not in the least bit weepy, which was good in his opinion. "Der-EK! We're having a baby and all you can say is that explains why I was going to clean your precious games room? UGH! I can't believe you'd-"

He kissed her; half to shut up and half because he was seriously freaking out with happiness. He was gonna be a dad! He was gonna be the best dad alive! He couldn't wait to tell the guys on his team; they were going to freak! He had to call Sam and Ralph and his dad... In fact, he had to tell everyone. He kind of wanted to yell it a bit, just sort of start screaming and doing a little victory dance. But all of those thoughts sort of melted away when Casey's tongue reached for his and her arms slid around his neck and her body slipped out of the chair and fell against him until they were sprawled out on the carpet. _This _is what got them pregnant in the first place; now he understood that rambling sentence about all those times they'd done something. They still hadn't really passed that point where the sex dwindled and God he hoped they never did.

He could feel her stomach pressed against his and his chest thumped. In there was his baby... HIS baby. He smirked against her mouth, a laugh bubbling in his chest. She could clean for days if this was the kind of news he got from it. Well, maybe not _days_, that didn't leave much time for other things. And it'd probably be really exhausting and were they ever allowed to have sex when she was pregnant? Because she should rest a lot, right? And he didn't have any ideas about resting for the day; actually, he planned on exhausting her and himself to the point where movement became non-existent any longer. He should ask her; she probably read every book ever made on pregnancy, but then her hips rocked against him and he decided since she was the primary responsible one in their relationship she would've pulled away by now if they weren't allowed and really... they had a nice clean, perfectly made bed upstairs just waiting to be messed up. He definitely wasn't complaining.


End file.
